As part of a continuing series, we're following Obama Organizing Fellows as they share their stories and their experiences. They discuss the people they meet, the hardships of organizing, what the campaign means to them, and how this summer is changing their perspective.
Laura is an Organizing Fellow in St. Louis, Missouri. Her stories appear each Tuesday.
At my Platform meeting last night, a tenth grader, two teachers, two former Republicans, a few life long Democrats, and a diverse group of other supporters came together to discuss the issues they cared about. But they also discussed a lot more: namely, their experiences as people who feel somewhat silenced in their own communities here in St. Louis County. The county is odd that way. There are like-minded people living all around but it is hard to find one another without something like a political campaign to bring them together. But then, we might ask, why haven't they found each other in the past few elections? And the answer is because, as we are discovering again and again, this is more than just a campaign for the Democratic Party; this is a movement focused on changing something larger than ourselves. The people that arrived last night were not necessarily "Big D" Democrats but rather people who were seeking a better life for themselves, for their children, and for others; though the common ground was that they all believed Obama had the power to do that, each of them brought with them their own set of hesitations and concerns about the next step. One man admitted that once he came out of poverty and found a well-paying job, he felt angry about having to pay taxes and didn't want to. He actually told this to the Senator at a fund-raiser and Obama said to him that though he would definitely raise his taxes, the money would be put to good use. Another man stated that he had never cared about politics and had always voted Republican until his son started doing a paper about the candidates during the primary, and he became fascinated with Obama and his stance on issues. He was there, however, to really discuss what these issues were and how Obama should address them going forward. People did not shy away from discussing some of the more important issues at stake in our country. There was no hiding the fact that many are suffering and that we must make every effort to change that. We discussed how severely their schools have suffered under No Child Left Behind and how our veterans are not given the education they were promised. We discussed energy, human rights, and foreign policy. The meeting was heavy in a lot of ways, but it was also very honest. Barack wrote in The Audacity of Hope, "A government that truly represents Americans - that truly serves Americans - will require a different kind of politics...It wont be pre-packaged, ready to pull off the shelf. It will have to be constructed from the best of our traditions and will have to account for the darker aspects of our past...And we will need to remind ourselves, despite our differences, just how much we share, common hopes, common dreams, a bond that will not break." The meeting focused on these "darker aspects," not only of our past but also of today. However, it was among this discussion that we "reminded ourselves" just how much we cared. We all want to do better, and we will.
Check back next week for more from Laura in St. Louis, Missouri, and visit our Flickr page for more of her photos.
There are still nearly 900 platform meetings remaining over the next six days- click here to find one near you, and take advantage of this once in a lifetime opportunity to offer your input on the 2008 Democratic Party Platform.
At the beginning of my fellowship, it was hard to find the balance between individual goals and team goals. I had a hard time understanding what the point of my team was, as the majority of my job was making phone calls and meeting with the residents of St. Louis on an individual basis. This weekend, however, after doing three voter-registration drives in a row, the team's purpose became clear to me--we are there to remind each other that we are not alone. That might sound dramatic. How hard can it be to stand outside and register voters? How difficult could it be to wander around a lovely art festival (like the one we were at in Maplewood this past weekend), and talk to new voters, who are finally getting the chance to vote? Sounds pretty straight forward, sounds pretty fun, right? Right. But only if you have people there with you, supporting you when they hear an upsetting comment or cheering you on when you get your first new voter registration of the evening. My team is great. We have a leader, Robin, who fills our inboxes with exclamation points and encouragement on a daily basis; she never says no to any request and keeps track of each one of our schedules. We have Emily, from Illinois, who constantly makes us laugh with her witty humor. She collected twelve voter registration forms on her own in two hours at the Maplewood Art Fair and when I joined her, her energy was contagious; I collected five more forms in one hour (the most I have collected in that short amount of time). We have Layla, a High School senior from St. Louis, who argues for what she believes and stands up for herself in a way that I never did at seventeen.We have Tony, an enthusiastic organizer from St. Louis, who kicked off our first organizing meeting and continues to persuade his friends and family (many who are Republican) that Obama is the best candidate for the job. We have Daniel, from California, who has come all the way to Missouri to help us swing this state blue. He is, like most of us, here for many reasons but he feels strongly about reviving an educational system that he has watched crumble in recent years. And then we have Daniel's mother, who is, in my opinion, our seventh team member. She sends Daniel hundreds of buttons and stickers every week and gives us and our volunteers and the energy (and the chum) we need. These are the people that keep me going; these are the people that remind me that we must connect with one another to get anything done. While I often think that I will get more accomplished if I journey out on my own, the truth of the matter is that I end up losing interest that much faster--I become discouraged, frustrated, and tired. I forget why I am there. When I see a teammate standing along side of me, however, I feel encouraged again because I remember that I am not alone.I am honored to be a part of a campaign that takes collaboration and communication so seriously. Not only because I think it is the only way we can actually enact change but also because it is the connections people make with each other that will outlast this campaign and help us form a better country. Though me and my team will end up going separate ways in a couple of weeks, the bonds that we form--in every corner of every state we are in--are going to keep each other motivated and determined to push for a different kind of politics every day, every month, every year.
I love the sky in St. Louis; the clouds are big, the sky is wide and no buildings blocks the view. I also love Forest Park—a huge park with a beautiful Art museum plopped on top of it and a river of sorts flowing through the center. I love the City Museum: a grand, recycled, playground that invites guests into its chambers (literally) until the early hours of the morning. And if the sights aren’t enough, I am continually appreciative of the opportunity to work with the people who live here—people as various, playful, and beautiful as the parts of the city I am growing to love. This past week, I had the opportunity to see a lot of different sides of St. Louis. I experienced the crowd at the infamous Warped Tour, where fellows and volunteers gathered for eight hours to register new voters. We began by walking down the line, which grew and grew as we marched along, asking people to register. There, we experienced the usual mix of responses—apathy, excitement, anger and gratitude—and successfully registered a lot of young people excited about Obama and punk rock. As the day continued, we went to every different entrance, exit, and bathroom, and tried to register more and more young voters. One of our volunteers plastered himself with stickers and walked through the crowds, screaming over the singers (who were screaming themselves), “If you are 18 by November, register here now!” Another stood for over two hours with sticker sheets draped around her neck, ready and willing to give people the opportunity to show their support. None of us left without a sunburn. At my July 4th event, my team planned a voter registration event with a very different crowd. We went to the fireworks event in Kirkwood, MO, which is a picturesque town in the County. Not surprisingly, it also has a large amount of proud, registered, voters so the event was somewhat “unsuccessful.” That said, our volunteers were extraordinary and inspiring—a woman named Linda opened up her house as a meeting place and another woman named Marilyn pulled in the largest number of registrations that we had the whole evening.After the July 4th weekend, I took the down time I had to explore the city a bit. Without numbers to call and events to plan (for at least a day), I ended up at the Art Museum in Forest Park, sucked in by the German expressionist painter, Max Beckmann. His art was compelling but his life was what intrigued me most. He was a prolific painter who went into exile during Hitler’s rise to power when he was deemed a “threat” of some sort. After that, he was not allowed then to teach or make his art. My first reaction was that of disbelief; I couldn’t really imagine a world in which an artist would feel the need to leave his country and enter a life of poverty because of his passion was somehow threatening to the government. As I thought more about it, however, I realized that people are silenced every day, for merely expressing themselves and their passions. When I do voter registration, there is usually a comment of some sort that makes me want shut my mouth, turn the other direction, and run away. And I remembered, as I stared at Beckmann’s wild paintings—paintings full of chaotic carnivals and warped perspectives—that this is part of the reason I am here: to give citizens their voices back and get those voices heard.
I love the sky in St. Louis; the clouds are big, the sky is wide and no buildings blocks the view. I also love Forest Park—a huge park with a beautiful Art museum plopped on top of it and a river of sorts flowing through the center. I love the City Museum: a grand, recycled, playground that invites guests into its chambers (literally) until the early hours of the morning. And if the sights aren’t enough, I am continually appreciative of the opportunity to work with the people who live here—people as various, playful, and beautiful as the parts of the city I am growing to love.
This past week, I had the opportunity to see a lot of different sides of St. Louis. I experienced the crowd at the infamous Warped Tour, where fellows and volunteers gathered for eight hours to register new voters. We began by walking down the line, which grew and grew as we marched along, asking people to register. There, we experienced the usual mix of responses—apathy, excitement, anger and gratitude—and successfully registered a lot of young people excited about Obama and punk rock. As the day continued, we went to every different entrance, exit, and bathroom, and tried to register more and more young voters. One of our volunteers plastered himself with stickers and walked through the crowds, screaming over the singers (who were screaming themselves), “If you are 18 by November, register here now!” Another stood for over two hours with sticker sheets draped around her neck, ready and willing to give people the opportunity to show their support. None of us left without a sunburn.
At my July 4th event, my team planned a voter registration event with a very different crowd. We went to the fireworks event in Kirkwood, MO, which is a picturesque town in the County. Not surprisingly, it also has a large amount of proud, registered, voters so the event was somewhat “unsuccessful.” That said, our volunteers were extraordinary and inspiring—a woman named Linda opened up her house as a meeting place and another woman named Marilyn pulled in the largest number of registrations that we had the whole evening.
After the July 4th weekend, I took the down time I had to explore the city a bit. Without numbers to call and events to plan (for at least a day), I ended up at the Art Museum in Forest Park, sucked in by the German expressionist painter, Max Beckmann. His art was compelling but his life was what intrigued me most. He was a prolific painter who went into exile during Hitler’s rise to power when he was deemed a “threat” of some sort. After that, he was not allowed then to teach or make his art. My first reaction was that of disbelief; I couldn’t really imagine a world in which an artist would feel the need to leave his country and enter a life of poverty because of his passion was somehow threatening to the government. As I thought more about it, however, I realized that people are silenced every day, for merely expressing themselves and their passions. When I do voter registration, there is usually a comment of some sort that makes me want shut my mouth, turn the other direction, and run away. And I remembered, as I stared at Beckmann’s wild paintings—paintings full of chaotic carnivals and warped perspectives—that this is part of the reason I am here: to give citizens their voices back and get those voices heard.
Check back next Tuesday for more from Laura in St. Louis, Missouri, and visit our Flickr page for more of her photos.
